


All I've Got Is a Photograph (But It's Not Enough)

by TheGaySmurf



Series: Life Is the Moments We Make (The Seconds We Take) [8]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, F/F, Introspection, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 17:33:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14337561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGaySmurf/pseuds/TheGaySmurf
Summary: Waverly Earphatesphotographs.





	All I've Got Is a Photograph (But It's Not Enough)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: _"photographs"_
> 
> This ficlet is to fill a prompt given by a group of my author friends to help me shake off the writing slump I've been in recently. A big thank you to all of you guys (you know who you are).
> 
>  
> 
> All mistakes are my own.
> 
>  
> 
> Fic title: "Photograph" - Def Leppard

Waverly Earp _hates_ photographs.  
  
_Hates_ them.  
  
It’s not that she _avoids_ pictures.  She’s in plenty of them.   
  
Stacks of yearbooks filled with society and club photos on every page, Waverly Earp front and center for each one, the patented _smile and wave_.  Folders full of selfies with Stephanie  and Chrissy and the girls; with Champ and his arms heavy around her, his stubble rough against her cheek.  The day she won _Nicest Person in Purgatory,_ a satiny sash looped over her head, the words scrawled across it in gold glitter, only one spelling mistake.  
  
She’s in plenty of them.  But she _hates_ them.  
  
Because the sunshine of her smile in the yearbook is dimmed behind a warning cloud, but no one ever looks closely enough to notice it.  Because Steph and the girls wear an air of superiority as clear as the smirks on their faces.  Because Champ is smothering her with his cologne and his arms and his lips, but his eyes are focused somewhere else, on some other girl across the room.  Because the town has crowded around to cheer her on, but the whispers and rumors are reaching out and grabbing at her, trying to drag her off the stage.  
  
Waverly hates photographs. 

Because all they are is a reminder that she’s different and that she’s separate and that she’s just an _other._   One of _them._   An _Earp._  
  
But perhaps the worse picture of all is the one that reminds her that she’s _not._  
  
_Not_ one of them.  
  
_Not_ an Earp.  
  
It still hangs on the refrigerator.  Because Wynonna put it there.  Because Wynonna stares at it in the middle of the night when she thinks everyone else is asleep.  Because when the moon is the only light in the kitchen, glinting off the bottle in her hand, she reaches out and touches it, her finger tracing the ghost that haunts her nightmares.  
  
That’s all Wynonna sees when she looks at the photograph.   
  
But it’s not what Waverly sees.   
  
Waverly sees her sisters.  Joined at the hip.  Peas in a pod.  Inseparable.  Like they’re the only two people in the world.  
  
But they’re not. 

Waverly is there, too.  Tagging along.  Two steps behind. 

But it might as well be two hundred.  Because they don’t even notice her.  
  
She’s not one of them.  Not an Earp.  
  
Waverly _hates_ photographs.  
  
The first time Nicole tries to take a selfie with her, Waverly feels that cloud rolling over her sunshine again.  She ducks her head and twirls away out of Nicole’s embrace.  Shy.  Bashful.  Holding on to her self-preservation.  
  
The first time Nicole _actually_ takes a selfie with her, she’s not ready for it.  She’s hunched over a dusty book, squinting at the runes, nose wrinkled up in concentration.  She doesn’t hear Nicole come up behind her.  Doesn’t realize the unexpected kiss to her cheek is accompanied by the click of the camera on her phone until it’s already too late.  
  
She doesn’t want to look at it.  Doesn’t want to see how invisible she is in her own picture.  She doesn’t think she can handle it.  Not with Nicole.  Not when there’s more at stake than there ever was with Champ.  
  
But Nicole’s eyes light up when she looks at it.  When she sets it as her lockscreen.  When she shows Jeremy as soon as he walks in the room.  
  
Waverly’s afraid to look at it, but the way Nicole keeps stealing glances at it when she thinks no one is looking, the corners of her mouth twitching every time, makes Waverly brave.  She finally sneaks a peek, and the sun breaks through the clouds again when she sees it.  
  
Her face is scrunched up and Nicole is smiling so widely into the kiss against her cheek that her eyes are crinkled and there’s a glow to her face that Waverly thinks is just a glare on the screen at first.

Something changes that day. 

The strain in her chest loosens, just the tiniest bit.  The pit in her stomach lurches slightly less than it used to.  The weight on her shoulders becomes a fraction lighter. 

It’s subtle and minute and barely there.

Maybe pictures aren’t so bad after all.  Maybe it’s nice to remember the good times with her friends.  With her love.  With her new _family._   The precious few moments that take place in the short periods of calm before the constant storms that rule their lives now.

Waverly doesn’t even notice at first.  But slowly, _slowly,_ she begins to amass a new collection of photographs.  
  
Pictures of her and Nicole snuggling, kissing, making silly faces.  Pictures of her with the rest of the gang.  Doc, his eyes sparkling when he figures out how to take a photo with his new phone.  Dolls and his super serious face, but the hint of a smile at the corner of his eyes.  Jeremy and his exuberance when she remembered to bring his favorite coffee.  Dolls and Nicole sparring, and Doc and Nicole talking about horses, and Jeremy and Nicole geeking out over their comic books.  
  
And Wynonna.  
  
Wynonna, with her hard edges and _fuck off_ façade, but a new softness behind it, especially when Waverly is near.  Wynonna, who stands close to Waverly. 

Always close.  Joined at the hip.  Peas in a pod.  Inseparable.  Like they’re the only two people in the world.  
  
The day Waverly finally _realizes_ she feels differently about photographs is the day that the picture on the refrigerator changes.  
  
Gone is her past, where she didn’t belong.  Where she wasn’t noticed.  Where she was invisible.   
  
And in its place hangs her future.  
  
She looks at the photograph of her and Nicole and Wynonna, the three of them laughing, Wynonna trying to steal Nicole’s beer and Nicole playfully shoving her away with one hand while her other rests comfortably around Waverly’s waist.   
  
She’s not different.  She’s not separate.  She’s not an _other._  
  
She’s _loved._   She’s one of them.  She’s an _Earp._  
  
And Waverly Earp _loves_ photographs.

**Author's Note:**

> I have several other projects that are in progress at the moment (yes, this includes new chapters of Haught's History and Sad Puppies, as well as a few other things), all in various states of completion. I'm a bit buried with my beta work at the moment, but I promise I am trying to do better with finding the time to work on my own things now, too.
> 
> Anyway. I just thought I would post this little ficlet in the meantime to show that I haven't completely forgotten how to make words on my own. 
> 
> ...Mostly.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you to everyone for reading. I am always up for questions and discussions.
> 
> You can find me on both Twitter and Tumblr: @iamthegaysmurf


End file.
